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13 matching pages
Page 1 of 11912 · PDF PAGE 20
… soulless wilderness of stone. Nor grass, nor corn, delight the vales ; Nor beast, nor bird, span space. Immense, Black rain, grey mist, white wrath of gales, Fill the dread armoury of sense. Nor shines the sun; nor moon, nor star Their subtle light at all display ; Nor day, nor night, dispute the scaur: All’s one intolerable grey. Black Ilyns, grey rocks, white hills of snow! No flower, no colour: life is not. This is no way for men to go From Severn-mouth to Camelot. Despair, the world upon his speed, Drive (like a lion from his den Whom hung…
1912 · PDF PAGE 104
Yet, those white lips were snapped, like steel Upon the ankles of a slave! That body broken on the wheel Of Time suppressed the groan it gave! “Not there, not here, my quest!” he cried. “Not thus! Not now! Do how and when Matter? Iam, and I abide, Sir Palamede the Saracen!”
1912 · PDF PAGE 86
80 White as a corpse, the hero hails The dawn, that night of fear still shaking His body. All death’s doubt assails Him. Was it sleep or was it waking? “ By God, I care not, I!” (quod he). “Or wake or sleep, or live or dead, I will pursue this mystery. So help me Grace of Godlihead!” Ay! with thy wasted limbs pursue That subtle Beast home to his den! Who knows but thou mayst win athrough, Sir Palamede the Saracen?
1912 · PDF PAGE 75
…ing disk Of the tall sun; they battle through Those weary days; the wind is brisk; The stars are clear; the moon is high. Now, even as a white basilisk That slayeth all men with his eye, Stands up before them tapering The cone of speechless sanctity. Up, up its slopes the pilgrims swing, Chanting their pagan gramarye Unto the dread volcano-king. “ Now, then, by Goddes reed!” quod he, “ Behold the secret of my quest In this far-famed stability| 69
1912 · PDF PAGE 28
…far. There doth he find Sir Palamede Sitting as steadfast as a star. Scarcely he knew the knight indeed, For he was compassed in a beard White as the streams of snow that feed The lake of Gods and men revered That sitteth upon Caucasus. So muttered he a darkling weird,
1912 · PDF PAGE 38
… field and flood, Aye guided by that wizard’s head, That like a windy moon did scud Before him, winking eyes of red And snapping jaws of white: but then What cared for living or for dead Sir Palamede the Saracen ?
1912 · PDF PAGE 111
…h its leeches. Sternly he travelleth the crest Of a great mountain, far that reaches Toward the King-snows; the rains molest The knight, white wastes updriven of wind In sheets, in torrents, fiend-possessed, Up from the steaming plains of Ind. They cut his flesh, they chill his bones : Yet he feels naught; his mind is pinned To that one point where all the thrones Join to one lion-head of rock, Towering above all crests and cones 105
1912 · PDF PAGE 105
…. Disdain Curls the proud lip as he uplifts His vizor. ‘Come, an end! In vain, Sir Fox, thy thousand turns and shifts!” Sir Palamede was white with fear. Lord Christ! those features were his own; His own that voice so icy clear That cuts him, cuts him to the bone. “False knight! false knight!” the stranger cried. “ Thou bastard dog, Sir Palamede? Iam the good knight fain to ride Upon the Questing Beast at need. 99
1912 · PDF PAGE 44
… gems? A crown of thorns! The Questing Beast is like a king In face, and hath a pigeon’s wing And claw; its body is one fleece Of bloody white, a lamb’s in spring. Enough. Sir Knight, I give thee peace.”
1912 · PDF PAGE 102
… sick to death! The staring eyen, the haggard face! God grant to him the Beauteous Breath! God send the Goodly Gift of Grace! There is a white cave by the sea Wherein the knight is hid away. Just ere the night falls, spieth he The sun’s last shaft flicker astray. All day is dark. There, there he mourns His wasted years, his purpose faint. A million whips, a million scorns Make the knight flinch, and stain the saint. For now! what hath he left? He feeds On limpets and wild roots. What odds? There is no need a mortal needs Who hath loosed man’s h…
1912 · PDF PAGE 117
…odily seen then of them all. Then came he to Sir Palamede, Nestling to him, as sweet and small As a young babe clings at its need To the white bosom of its mother, As Christ clung to the gibbet-reed! Then every knight turned to his brother, Sobbing and sighing for great gladness; And, as they looked on one another,
1912 · PDF PAGE 109
…oxicating! Hush! the heart’s beat! Across the moor Some dreadful god rides fast, be sure ! The listening Palamede bites through His thin white lips—what hoofs are those? Are they the Quest? How still and blue The sky is! Hush—God knows—God knows ! Then on a sudden in the midst of them Is a swart god, from hoof to girdle a goat, Upon his brow the twelve-star diadem And the King’s Collar fastened on his throat. Thrill upon thrill courseth through Palamede. Life, life, pure life is bubbling in his blood. All youth comes back, all strength, all joy…
1912 · PDF PAGE 4
…Questing Beast, The knights fail to lift him, this being the test of worthiness. vii. Lancelot findeth him upon Scawfell, clothed in his white beard. He returneth, and, touching the dwarf but with his finger, hurleth him to the heaven, viii. Sir Palamede, riding forth on the quest, seeth a Druid worship the sun upon Stonehenge. He rideth eastward, and findeth the sun setting in the west. Furious he taketh a Viking ship, and by sword and whip fareth seaward. ix. Coming to India, he learneth that It glittereth. Vainly fighting the waves, the leav…